


A Chance Encounter

by TheMadam



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, Exhibitionism, F/M, Masturbation, Self-Insert, Sex, Sex Work, Smoking, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Voyeurism, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-29 09:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21408100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadam/pseuds/TheMadam
Summary: L x readerAfter having worked with L on a previous serial killer case and built a rapport with L, Watari has called you for the Kira case. Keeping L focused, yet taken care of, what if he never had to die?Author's Note 7/13/2020Abandoned for the foreseeable future. If and when I decide to update this is w/e. As it stands, I have lost interest. May delete, but pleaseDo Notcome onto my other works telling me to update this. It's absolutely rude. I appreciate the interest, I really do! But my heart does not lie in this right now sopleaserespect that. Thank you <3
Relationships: L (Death Note)/Reader, L/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	1. A chance encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmm. Im drunk and been rewatching DN w/ my boye. Forgot how much I love L and his death made me cry again. Oh, I'll also probably rename it and stuff. This was very on a whim but had to fill out all then asterisks.

Honestly, the murderer could be anyone. You see countless faces in a day. All not amounting to much but a wallet. Your goal at the end of the day is to convince them you're worth their money. But also, as it stands, with the string of murders, your life. What do you bring to the table? The job of a dancer in general is dangerous. However, now there's someone targeting specifically sex workers. And with how many men who are regulars at the club, or good with disguises, it's anyone's guess. The LABB murder cases proved that someone with the clear intent to hide themselves could be anyone. For all we know, the regular in question was murdered and who we think they are currently is an imposter. Anyone can be anyone in today's day in age. But you.... you have been doing this long enough. The mannerisms of your clubs regulars, their voices, that ugly fucking mole on their face with that large hair... it defines them. You've worked at your club long enough to know who is who. Yet, someone good at disguises? That's a different story. There's lots of men with animosity, but some truly take it to the next level...

As the news has spread far and wide, you're on a constant guard. A drink is never purchased for you without your knowledge. Your keen eye watches as the bartender pours it and it travels from the bartenders hand, to your customers hand, to the table in front of you. You use your gut to decide, do I drink this? Or spill it on "accident"? Or to simply toss it over your shoulder into an incredibly fake plant or carpeted floor to keep yourself from being drugged. The bouncers can be of help, but that depends if you've been a good tipper from the get go. While you have been, it's best to play it safe. You decide to enjoy the drink as it stands. This is your man, Paul. He always pays your house fee and tips generously on stage. He's usually more focused on his video poker and cheap steak on Friday than anything else. 

The vodka cran is cold, with very little cran and very much vodka, you nurse your drink to almost empty. It's a slow night, but there's potential. Your shift only started an hour and half ago. There's a new girl on stage, she's sweet but definitely a bambi. This job is going to eat her alive if the murderer doesnt do it first. Still, you support her. Giving her reassuring smiles and the occasional $1-2. Paul has already paid your house fee and your bills are set for the month. There's three weeks left and you have plenty in savings, helping out the new girl who you have a soft spot for for some reason wont harm any. And there's not many girls tonight, so she could really make it...

As you down the rest of your drink, your name is called for rotation. Quite a few more bodies have shown up in the club.  
'About damn time' You think, as it approaches almost 10pm on a friday in the middle of bachelor season. While this may make things more dangerous with what has been going on, it may make your night more profitable. Your calculations arent 100% as it stands, but you feel it in your bones. The murderer is definitely someone who frequents your club. While no one you know too well has been murdered, your club is in too close of a vicinity. Perhaps he has a soft spot for here? Or maybe he is still scoping out the next victim. You pray the new girl has enough street smarts to keep herself safe. 

You saunter on up to the stage, clicking your heels to the 4-4 beat as you arrive. Grabbing the rag and rubbing alcohol, you douse the former generously in the latter. The Bambi smells of Lovespell, but not in the way the perfume does, you can tell it is the lotion. Your mother used to wear it all the time, but at the end of the day, she was more of a Japanese Cherry Blossom and not a Lovespell. Still, the smell is ingrained into your memory and there's no way you could forget it. You aggressively wipe down the pole at arm length. Newbie is shorter than you, which is no easy feat considering you stand at only 5'3" without heels and 5'11" with. 8" heels or nothing, shit dont click right. Either way, she isn't in your standard Pleasers or Ellie, they're probably from Forever21 or some brand she got on sale at TJMaxx. Baby strippers have to learn the ropes, but there's nothing wrong with making due when you're first starting. Perhaps you should give her your least favourite pair. She is probably your same size or close to considering most companies dont make shoes any smaller. 

The song starts, it's one of your favourites. It's slow and calculated, much like you. There's plenty of hungry eyes on you and more flood into the club. You've built a good rapport with your DJ. His mother passed on the same day your grandma had a few years prior. Plus, he's a sucker for Depeche Mode which you asked him to play you once before. You can ask him to play anything and he will. Jared is a kind man with a weakness for drinking. You've used it to your advantage on more than one occasion to get out of paying house on a slow night. He probably knew, yet still bought you a shot at the end of your shift. You may have a small crush on him and he knows it, but neither of you have discussed it or engaged outside of a professional relationship. Don't shit where you eat...

A pirouette here, a graceful fall there, a little floor work before you bring yourself back up onto your feet. The song gets a little more aggressive and you feel the music. Climbing the pole, the beat will drop soon and you prepare your self for a drop into a jade split. As it hits, you feel the vodka and confidence kick in. While getting wasted on the job is not ideal, it can make for some very fun nights. You pull off your move effortlessly, thankful for all the hours you've put into training. You move your arms to both grip the pole and swivel into a chopper. At the bottom of the pole, you swing your legs into a few mesmerizing tik toks before flipping over into a single twerk and pushing yourself up. On your knees you grab the pole in a split grip and push your legs out. Using your top hand to anchor you and your bottom to push you around, you do a slight catwoman move around the pole to get your feet under you again. With your hips out, keeping your back arched, you guide your chest up to bring you into an upright position, it is then when the room stills and you lock eyes with a man you've never seen before. 

A lot of these men you've never seen before. Could be tourists, could be just men trying a new club, none of it matters. What matters is the haunched man in the white t shirt and jeans, leaning against the bar as the bartender pours him a drink. He's different. His air is different. Most men fall into a specific category and an untrained eye would place him into one, but you can feel he is not the same. He's boring into you with the largest grey eyes you've ever seen. They look like pools of cloudy obsidian and he looks like perhaps he hasn't slept in years. Yet, they're keen and aware. It makes you falter, forgetting there's a small rift between the wood panelling of the floor. Your thin heel gets caught, but you take it in stride and pretend it is part of your dance. That's all this is anyway, a performance. You are the fantasy of a million different men every night, after all. A giggle and smile at whoever you make eye contact with first at the rack is all you need before you continue. The first song has ended for the most part and home boy Jared is transitioning to the second. It is not the one you asked for, but one Jared loves to see you freestyle to. It is a song most in the club recognize with a 4-4 beat, as are most. He is changing the atmosphere to adhere to the amount of folks in the club. Gotta keep it neutral yet lively, you wont be able to pick your "weird" music for a bit until he susses out the crowd. That is fine. You'll throw in a few splits and flying moves. One dollar bills really pour onto your stage and you try to focus on the men at your rack, but you cannot blink without seeing those striking grey eyes. You will have to approach that man when your done. As you priouette into the last 30 seconds of your song, you realize he is sitting at your rack. Several 5s lined up and he is sitting in the most unusual manner. You make it a point to approach him and spend the last 15 seconds engaging him. You look him in the eyes and smile as you extend your hand, "Hello, I am Lilah." You say flirtatiously. He looks at your hand before shyly or perhaps moreso, awkwardly, extending his own, "Hello. I am Ryuzaki."


	2. Decipher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize many may not be familiar with the club life. If there is any confusion or questions, please feel free to ask! I'm more than happy to answer! But obviously this is a highly self indulgent fic so, it's pretty out there.

The song winds down as you two shake hands. His are cold yet soft, the cold could be attributed to having just come in and the soft attributed to potential over masturbation. As the latter crosses your mind, you also consider perhaps not. He just doesn't feel the type. Still, the men you meet always surprise you, looks are fairly deceiving as you know. You are wearing a wig, coloured contacts, and enough dermacol over your tattoos that it could be peeled off in a sheet, but fuck if it doesnt blend into your skin tone flawlessly. As you scoop your money up under you and haphazardly shove it into your purse 'easily $90' you think, you ask the strange man for a dance. He cocks his head at you, his eyes so fucking hard to read, and utters, "Did you not just dance for me?" The naivete of such a statement startles you and you bark out a small laugh. "No, this is just a stage performance. We can get more personal in the lap dance area. Would you like to hear prices?" You say sweetly. He places his thumb to his mouth in a child like gesture, as if deep in thought. "Maybe later, would it be ok to speak to you for a bit first?"  
'Ah yes, another cheapskate pretending to be a high roller. Maybe he isnt so different after all' you think to yourself before replying, "Only if you'll treat me to a vodka cran while we do so." You giggle at him. He blinks at you before replying flatly, "Ok." And it makes you wonder if you've blown your chance to get more money from him. You gather your things as you head off stage, leaving a dollar behind for your work crush as she makes her way into rotation. What you wouldn't give to do doubles with her and while you usually would ask, she intimidates you fiercely. Not to mention, there's a fairly strange, raven haired male you have to decipher. He certainly couldn't be the serial killer, he sticks out too much like a sore thumb or I suppose in this instance, an unpedicured foot. 

As this Ryuzaki character grabs you a drink, you head to the back of the club where it is quieter. Perhaps he is one of those men so desperate for female attention, some one on one time in the quietest area you can get will be beneficial. You've got a bit of a buzz already and these types of guys are usually pretty easy to deal with, even in your sleep. Still, you have this lingering feeling of curiosity in your gut. He is quite different from any man you've encountered before. Again, dont shit where you eat, but maybe he could become a good friend. If the fivers aren't a front, perhaps even a good regular. You decide to pull out all the stops with him to be sure. A bit of wasted time can be afforded as it is. No harm, no foul. 

You watch as he gets your drink from Ginger and note that he does tip her, though from where you are sitting, you cannot tell how much. Ginger's smile indicates good enough and that puts your mind at ease momentarily. You can't shake this feeling. Is it unease? Excitement? This guy has the worst fucking posture you've ever seen and it makes your aerialist heart furious. Does he not know what he's doing to his fucking back? He could be a good couple inches taller if he just straightened the fuck out! Not to mention how much healthier that would be for his spine.... whatever, forget it. It isnt like you dont watch men pound Coors Light every night and come back every week with a potentially higher risk of heart disease. This guy has hardly touched his drink and looks fairly young, maybe he is working on it. Who am I to judge? 

Ryuzaki finally makes his way to where you are sitting and places the two drinks on the table next to you. You were too distracted by his back so now you know you cant touch either drink. Perhaps maybe take a sip of his nonchalantly on 'accident' shortly after him. Call it a fluke and then claim it as your own because oops! You were the last one to drink out of it! You make a mental note as he sits down in that awkward way of his. Knees up and back haunched. God, his fucking bones. That is not good for you, sweetheart.

Ryuzaki's eyes bore into you, it makes you feel very judged or at least studied. Maybe that's how he felt when you spaced out on his bad posture. Sometimes you dont have a filter on your face, maybe you were making one as you did so. Either way, you decide now you have to engage him and figure him out, if you even can. Or get him 86'd if he's an absolute fucking creep, but you dont feel like he will be. You almost question if he is a time waster. 

"So," You start in a soft voice. "Ryuzaki is an interesting name. Are you visting?" With how many people who have been moving here and ruining the housing market of your home, you try to hide any animosity you may have as you consider he's moved here. It isnt that you hate people to move wherever they please, but all the transplants from california have been really grinding your fucking gears when it comes to the cost of living here now. And their driving....

"Yes. I am here for work. My mother is Japanese which is where my name comes from. Tell me, you're the first person here to engage me, what made you do so? I was in earlier but received quite the cold shoulder." He replies in a neutral tone. This fucker is so hard to read. It doesnt even feel like he wants to be here, but you're not even sure! He's not even trying to rub your thighs, which you're thankful for, but it makes it harder to gauge what he wants. You blurt out,  
"You have striking eyes." A line you're not using for cheap flattery, you think. Those tricks probably wont work on someone so odd. So you decide it is a truth. He did make you falter on stage, which has only happened one other time when you were travel dancing and a celebrity came in. The first time it happened was startling, afterwards you got used to it. The south is wild and awesome when it comes to that but the PNW has had it's fair share of celeb pop ups. Lady Gaga does own a house in Lake Oswego and you've always crossed your fingers in hopes of running into her. Shit, he's talking.

"Oh, I see you spaced out for a moment. I was saying 'thank you' for that. Most folks are off put by me. I would agree, I don't look like most of the men in here. Still, it is kind of you to reach out to me, though it is your job I suppose." The words are spoken softly, in a manner almost mimicking your own. He's sweet. Oh, and he just slid you a $20. Score! Maybe a VIP isnt out of the question. You decide your gut trusts him and you grab a glass to sip on. He still hasnt touched his drink and it makes you wonder. You grab his glass and offer it to him, out of politeness, you think, he takes it. You watch, with him staring straight back at you, he takes a small sip. The face he makes afterward forces you into a fit of giggles.

"I know alcohol is what runs these joints, but it is truly deplorable. Perhaps I should've stuck with unspiked soda." He mutters into the glass with a sour face before placing it back on the table. "You are... a silly one. " you giggle as you take another drink. The alcohol is warm in your stomach and you're thankful Paul bought you some mozzarella sticks when you came in. Not the best food, but you dont eat them often despite them being the best thing to exist in this world. Drinking on an empty stomach is grounds for a puke fest on stage. A lesson you learned when you first turned 21 and were dancing. It was not a good look and you have not stepped foot in that club since.  
"I will say though, Ginger pours a mean drink. OLCC would be up our ass if they really knew. But more alcohol usually means better tips all around. Her smile at me indicated you were generous. She will keep pouring you a heavy drink if you don't stop her." The shot girl comes to you two and asks if you would like anything. You politely tell her for yourself that you dont need anything, but Ryuzaki orders a slice of apple pie. It makes you wonder if the club even has any despite advertising it, no one really comes to a club for dessert.... not in the traditional sense, anyway. 

As Carly leaves to place Ryuzaki's order, you turn your attention back to him. "Apple pie, huh? Do you frequent strip clubs often? Papi is a great chef, but I can't attest to his baking skills." You are not sure if they're really made fresh or if they've since chosen to go with store bought. It is something that probably goes bad fast with the lack of ordering. Which saves the club the most money? He cuts into your thoughts, his voice sort of makes your stomach flutter.

"Not usually. There's not many back where I'm from, but my coworkers invited me out tonight and I felt I couldn't say no. As it stands, I hope none of them make a fool of themselves." His large, sleepy eyes are watching you. It almost feels as if you're being eaten, but not in the way the usual drunks look at you. You dont feel like you have to act as much. 

"Well, you're certainly doing wonderful. If they're anything like you, I can't imagine they'll get into too much trouble. So long as they treat at least one girl really well, they'll be welcome back." An honest answer to what you feel is an honest man. You wonder what his smile looks like... Ryuzaki places his thumb to his mouth again, definitely pondering something. Then, his face lights up as if he has had quite the idea. 

"So, you were talking to me about dances. How do they work here? I never purchased any back home since this is not really my scene, but you've been kind to me. I understand how these places work and would like to make sure you do well tonight." Oh god, score. Im gonna sell him a VIP if it is the last thing I do. Maybe even a champagne room! He continues with his thought, "Would I be able to bring my apple pie in there?" That thought alone brings a soft smile to his face and with that, a soft blush to yours. He is precious and it is decided you want to protect this weirdo. 

"Yes, you can bring your apple pie into the dances, but only some of them. The shorter ones are in a communal dance area with little room. Id worry about it getting stepped on. Would you like to hear prices?" Is your reply. He seems to be sucking on his nail as he answers, "Only the prices of the ones I can bring that into." Your smile is as wide as the day is long. "The time chunk dances are completely private. You can get a solid half hour with me for about $450, the club takes a percentage so I will only receive about $360 of that. You can also do full hours for a little extra. Or you can go all in for a champagne room, which is a guaranteed hour and half with me, a whole bottle of champagne, chocolate covered strawberries, and if they're in stock, a t shirt. That will run you about $800 and I'll get to keep $650." If his wallet is as big as his sweet tooth, you hope he picks the latter. You get to pop the bottle of champagne and he can have the sweets. Maybe you can convince Papi to bring in a slice of chocolate cake too. It's for the staff, but you and him have a good rapport, he will do anything for his Miss Forest Eyes. You continue, "But, there are rules. It is a pretty private dance without fear of me going up on stage and being taken from you for a set. However, there is absolutely no groping. We will be on camera and the DJ will be watching periodically to make sure we are not doing anything illegal. I am allowed to sit on your lap and I can be fully nude if you desire. " Without a moments hesitation he responds, "That won't be necessary. I quite like the bodysuit. Do you know what kind of chocolate comes on the strawberries? " he inquires. You giggle as you grab his hand and the plate of apple pie that Carly was seconds away from placing onto the table. You hand it to Ryuzaki so you can fish out a $10 for her. She's a sweet girl, a single mother like many of the women in here. You make sure to tip her well at every interaction. With Ryuzaki in tow, the two of you weave through the club to the hostess booth. "I'm not sure, but let's find out."


	3. Oo, He got money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is shorter than my previous ones. Let me know of errors or confusion. This one may have been a little rushed

You two finished checking in with the hostess and are making your way to the champagne rooms. You snag a pitcher of water off the bar to bring. Someone's gotta drive your sorry ass home at the end of the night and oh look, it's you. For every drink you should also have some water to guarantee being sober by the end of the evening. You'll probably order a salad too when all is said and done.

Ryuzaki makes no comment at your action and follows you with his apple pie in hand. The hostess is bringing the other goods in tow as well. You note Ryuzaki's lack of manners as he is happily chowing on his pie, small slurps and all. Maybe Papi does make it, you can't imagine store bought is that good. 

The three of you reach the champagne room of your choice. The one on the far left, it is the most private. Kassidy, the hostess, places the bucket of ice with the champagne and box of chocolate covered strawberries onto the table and sets the chocolate cake next to it. She tells the two of you to not have too much fun as you pull the blinds closed. It is a decently sized room, the club had a remodel last year and these were installed. They're much nicer than the previous champagne and VIP rooms there were before. The walls are painted a lustful rouge with dimmed lights along the edges. One corner has a large flat screen tv mounted to it and the only thing it has is hardcore porn. You opt to not turn it on, Ryuzaki doesn't seem like the type to be interested in such things. He is sitting on the large couch against the opposing wall, happily having finished his pie, he is digging into the chocolate covered strawberries. He even paid for extra. 

You decide to saunter on over to him and take a seat so close you're almost touching. You can feel his body heat and note the soft crunch of the chocolate as he takes a bite and the quiet slurp as he swallows. His adams apple is quite pronounced as he does so. Lithe and thin, you really take him all in in this moment before shattering the silence with the soft pop of opening the champagne. If he's gonna be his weird self without shame, so are you. You take a swig of it straight from the bottle and he turns to you with those impossibly large eyes.   
"Is that any sweeter?" He asks. You reply with a smile and hold the bottle up to him. You watch him press it to his lips as he takes a larger sip than his last drink. "It's drinkable, but not by much." He says, softly. Still, he ends up taking another swig and you wonder if he's ever been drunk before. He takes a bite of another strawberry as he passes the bottle back to you. There's about half as many in the box as there was before. "You might wanna get at least one in before I finish all of these. I will do it." It is not a joke, you decide. He will eat them all. No question. You're not sure if you want any or if you want to see that amazing feat. Not like you're one to talk, you could easily do that with cheese. Cheese isn't sexy though and thus, are not in any clubs you've been to. Probably for the better, diarrhea on stage is even more embarrassing than vomit. 

You decide to lean over and finish off his strawberry. He looks at you in a way that could maybe be astounded, but between the two vodka crans and a few swigs of champagne, you definitely cannot decipher his facial expression. Not like he's made it easy this entire time as it stands. "So, as a dancer. You must be aware of the rising danger these days. Not that dancing is ever safe, but sex workers are getting targeted solely. It is a little more... aggressive these days." Ah, yeah. He definitely doesnt go to strip clubs often. This is a place where that shit doesn't get talked about. You go to a club to forget the worries of the world and engage in a fantasy. However, it is now pretty largely affecting the club life and every one is on edge. Still, you have been dying to talk to someone about your theories and he's already ripped that bandaid off. He's one of those. 

"Yes, actually. I don't know any dancer who isn't if I'm being frank. But... I've always had such a morbid curiosity with murder and murderers. I never thought one would be so close to home, so to me... it's a little exciting. I've been doing my own digging and have developed my own theories." You reply. This is certainly going to be the weirdest champagne room you've ever sold, it already has been and it's not even 10 minutes into the time alotted. He places his thumb on his lip again in that childlike way. You have now found this trait endearing. You also wonder how soft his lips are. Oh, no. He's a customer. This is the booze talking. Do not tread into that territory, he's Fucking Weird. But Fucking Weird has always been your type despite it never having worked out in your favor. He is just on a level of weird you've yet to encounter and that makes him attractive you suppose. You don't even know shit about him and he thinks your name is Lilah, your hair is blonde, and your eyes are green. He seems to have a reply to yours, that's how conversations work or something. You're feeling drunk. 'Water, drink it.' You pour the water in a champagne flute and pound it down. That is super not the intent of those glasses and you have to stifle a laugh as you think about it. You also consider you should've grabbed some cups as well with the pitcher, but hindsight is 20/20. 

"You have your own theories? Interesting. Usually people just wait for the police to release information. I hope you haven't put yourself in harms way, Lilah. That would be truly disappointing. I would have no reason to come back here. " he murmurs. How sweet. Usually attachment from customers is something you heavily avoid, but from him it feels genuinely flattering. You will have to draw a boundary eventually. But- his cellphone rings and you watch as he fishes it out from his pocket. He's holding it like it is a dirty cum rag and he's not sure where the splooge was. You watch as he answers it. He has a short conversation before hanging up. He rises to his feet and gives you a smile. A genuine smile. Wow, it's fucking adorable and you want to see it all the time.   
"I unfortunately must be off. But, enjoy that chocolate cake. It looks certainly delectable. Duty calls me to be elsewhere, but I will be back tomorrow if you will be as well?" Your heart skips a beat before you reply, "Absolutely. I start work at 8pm. I wont even make you buy a champagne room if you want to just talk. You will have to deal with me being in rotation however." He cocks his head again before giving you a soft smile. "It would be more worth my time to share this room again. Perhaps you could wear another bodysuit? It fits you quite well. I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter at hand. And definitely your morbid curiosity of murder." With that, he exits the room and you wonder if you just hallucinated the whole thing. 

Well... you have at least another hour and 10 minutes in here with an almost full bottle of champagne and comfy, new couch. You take a swig and think about him some more. Tall, weird, sleepy. A Tim Burton wet dream for sure, if he were a good actor, which you doubt, he could put Johnny Depp out of business. Still, you know you arent going to be able to focus on any other customers for the night. You didn't even ask for a tip considering you didn't even really have to work. You look forward to seeing him tomorrow.

As you almost finish up the bottle of champagne and chocolate cake, you decide it might be best to head to the floor. There's always more money to be made and while lounging on the job is fun, you've stared at your phone so long you can feel a headache coming on. Or maybe it's the sugary champagne. Either way, you've got a few hours left of your shift and a decision needs to be made to cash out early or bring in more cash. You like money. Money is nice. Finishing up your shift would be better in the long run. You can also use it to prepare for seeing Mr. Ryuzaki tomorrow. A few mind numbing customers should be enough rest before whatever weirdness he's gonna throw your way later. You can't wait to go home and tell your little black halloween kitty all about it.


	4. Don't trust anyone who doesnt fuck themself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cw, masturbation. Ur gonna masturbate about that hot weirdo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat's name is genuinely Tomato.

The remainder of your shift the night before had been a blur. It was boring after Ryuzaki left, so you just sort of went through the motions. The haul was probably good, but if your wig on the recliner and the falsie on your cheek is any indicator, it was also exhausting. Night shifts on weekends are the best for money, but they do take a toll in the long run. 

You roll over to grab your dancer bag and count your haul, but it is not where you left it. Oh no, it is across the room, having it's strap gnawed on by your disaster chonk of a cat. While the purse will be ok because it is a chainlink strap this time, you consider what the vet bills will be if your sweet baby boy breaks a tooth.  
"Hey! Tssk!" You yell at him, he pops his head up and chirps back at you. He really is like having a child some times. Still, he understands the interruption and saunters away. You decide to get up and go grab the purse before heading to your room, snagging the loose bills along the way. Your son really is a nuisance at times, but he is still your baby and worth all the trouble he causes. 

As you make your way to your room and crawl into bed, you notice your clock on your vanity reads 11am. Despite not having worked retail in years, your internal clock seems pretty set in it's ways. Five hours of sleep is certainly not enough, but your body and brain dont seem interested in shutting off. You lay in bed while you count and face your money. Bills not facing the same direction are dumb and who the fuck lets their money be like that. It was a good night though, you've gotten good at hustling over the years and raking in over a grand is no easy feat even during busy season. You sold a few more dances with boring men who desperately wanted to fuck you, but ended up getting drunk and crying about why their daughters hate them. I dont know Jim, instead of buying her everything she wanted, maybe you should've spent quality time with her. The job is often like being an unlicensed therapist while receiving nothing but backhanded compliments and a ton of social stigma. 

With your money organized neatly, you tuck it away into your dancer bag. To be sorted into it's appropriate piggy banks for safe keeping or atm deposit later in the day. You roll over and grab your body pillow, wedging it between your legs and draping an arm across the top. You can't help but imagine Ryuzaki. He was so weird, but also fairly cute. Maybe not the most conventionally attractive by societal standards, but definitely up to yours. He was really warm when you got to sit so close to him. And with the newly built champagne room, you were still able to smell him. It definitely wasn't bad. A mixture of Old Spice Bearglove, fresh linen, and a faint whiff of cologne. Of course, there was also his natural musk which was definitely definitely not bad. He's clean, if a little messy. You'd say nothing that a feminine touch couldn't fix, but honestly he doesn't need fixing. You decide he is perfect as is. Maybe that back could use some work though. 

Squeezing the body pillow with your thighs your mind wanders more. The thought of Ryuzaki's lips on that bottle comes to mind and you linger on that mental image. They weren't super full, but not wildly thin. Just right for his face and they looked fairly soft. Definitely sweet too with how much sugar he consumed right in front of you. You consider it would not be ideal for him to go down on anyone, that's just a yeast infection waiting to happen. Still, you have to wonder what he would be like. He seems so awkward and inexperienced. It would probably be fairly sweet and gentle if you had it your way. Or erratic and fast if your memory of being 16 serves you correctly. Perhaps age would make a difference in control, even if the other party was inexperienced. 

You sigh as you debate it more. He was just a customer and the golden rule of every job is don't shit where you eat. You don't date customers. You don't date coworkers. You certainly don't date bosses. He feels weirdly in a realm all of his own though. And you find the more you ponder his sexual prowess or lack thereof, the more you realize you've been absentmindedly humping your body pillow. Maybe a quick sesh will solve all of this. It's just been you and your ridiculously large collection of sex toys for many months, arguably a year, now. That's probably all this is, a desperate need to get off and you're projecting all your needs onto some rando stranger. He is mad cute though and you decide it's ok to think about him like this. If it just stays in your head and you never mention it to anyone or act on it, there's no harm. 

Reaching under your blankets you pull out your trusty friend, the body wand. It stays plugged in at all times and this one especially is your favourite. It was the Toki Doki x Lovehoney limited edition wand. It has cute rainbow lightning bolts and stars on it. The head is normal, but comes with a silicone cap that resembles a unicorno. She's very cute and you feel dirty using the toy with her head on it, so it just sits on your vanity. You roll the knob until you hear the soft click and feel the gentle rumble of the first setting. Still tired and lazy from the night before, you don't bother to get undressed or do anything fancy about it right now. You just press the head of the toy gently on your clit through your underwear. This bitch is so awesome that wearing clothes doesn't change the sensation one bit. As you close your eyes you think more about him. All the things he could do to you, all the things you could do to him. You imagine his scent again as you feel tensions build. The wand might not be enough for what you want or how dirty your thoughts of him are getting. Is he big? Small? Average? How girthy.... god it's been so long. You have to have something in you too, clitoral stimulation just is not enough right now. 

You push yourself off the bed, leaving your body wand on as you go to rumage through your toy chest. It's a good thing you live alone or this would be mad annoying. It's nice to be able to afford that. Still, gotta stay focused. You find your favourite dong. The tried and true, Hypnotize by Rusé. A good size, not too long, not too girthy. The balls are not absolutely horrifying to look at and the veins are a nice touch. Plus it is a super soft and high quality silicone, it is the one you use most often. The suction on it is dope in the shower too. You snag it out of the box and head back to the bed. Forget the lube, you're definitely wet enough with all the ridiculous thoughts running through your head. Normally you'd put on some porn, but your brain right now is providing so much more than Sasha Grey ever could.

You hop back into bed with the goods. Your mind is racing a million miles a minute as you insert the toy. It's a little cold from having sat in it's carrier for a bit. But the sensation is still nice. Pressing the body pillow between your thighs to keep the toy in place, you rock back and forth. Grabbing the body wand, you wedge that in there too. God, yes. Letting your mind trail back to it's previous track, you see his striking large eyes. What would they look like, feeling pleasure so intense? Half lidded and lustful.... His breath getting heavier as he gets closer to orgasm. What would his moans sound like? His voice is already so easy on the ears. The thought of him moaning in your ear, the soft breath against your face, that's the last push you needed. Your back arches as you orgasm and it feels truly incredible for a few moments. Your hands shake as you turn off your body wand and you let yourself just lie there for a few minutes. Your mind is wiped clean as you do so. It feels like a nice break from all the questions. Most of them had been sexual, but it isn't like you dont have others about this guy... So it would appear even getting a quick nut is not enough to get him out of your head. Unfortunate.

After laying in your filth long enough, you decide it's time to clean up a little. Also, you don't feel super into leaving the dong in you any longer either. Once you remove that, you decide to get up to clean it off before placing it back into it's rightful place. You take a cleansing cloth and give your body wand the same treatment before using a fresh one on your own bits. Why is sex so messy? Perks of being a dancer though, an endless supply of baby wipes. And perks of past work experience in an adult shop means you know the wonders of After Glow wipes. Those shits are incredible for that post coital clean up.

After getting all clean superficially, you decide it would be best to remove your makeup from the previous night and hop in the shower. The warm water should get you ready to go back to sleep. You've got a ton of time to kill before you go to work. While you like to show up a little early and ready to go, 9 hours in advance is far too much. When your shower is over, you dry off your hair, slip into your cute cat onesie and get ready to sleep. You set an alarm for 3 more hours and an additional one for an hour after that, in case you decide to hit snooze. Tomato, your cat son, barges into your room as you lay down for bed. He hops in with you and his soft purrs lull you to sleep.


	5. Theories

As your alarm goes off you are jolted awake. Your mind was full of ridiculous scenarios of Ryuzaki and the potential outcomes last night could've had. It doesn't matter now because tonight is round two. And you have to be at the top of your game if you're gonna keep him around. 

You stretch as you arise and shuffle your way into the kitchen. You grab yourself a glass of water before heading to where your pole area is set up. Mirrors line the walls and string lights above those with a pole smack dab in the middle of the space. Against the back wall is a yoga mat and you unroll it as you prepare to work out and warm up before work. You begin with an exercise your favourite youtuber has posted. It's an amalgamation of a few of her videos and you find this combo has worked wonders. A HIIT routine to really get your blood pumping is exactly what you needed to clear your mind. You focus on the exercises and timing as your favourite workout playlist plays in the background. Tomato is always a nuisance when you try to work out. You do however pet him whenever you have to bend down for toe touches or squat jumps. Eventually the jumping and fast movements make him scurry away. It's the stretching post warm up that he likes. He has a spot on the yoga mat he chills on when you reach that point. Which you are shortly. That's the best part of HIIT routines. You get in a great amount of exercise in such a short amount of time.

With your heart beat skyrocketing and the blood flowing, you settle down on your yoga mat. Stretches for flexibility are important. You have taken many classes and been trained by a contortionist at one time. You are not absolutely amazing, but you do have your splits and can almost do a full scorpion intentionally. That's a pretty solid place to be. Training in different aerialist arts has been a great stepping stone to putting on the best show in the club. There are girls better than you, that's a given. But you also shine quite a bit during your 5-7 minutes you get every hour or so when in rotation for the stage. Some of the best paying customers you've encountered just want to see an amazing performance. 

You finish up your morning routine and shuffle to the kitchen. As you prepare a post workput protein smoothie, Tomato lets you know his food bowl is empty. It's not really, but you still top him off because he demands so. He is king of this castle in his own right and the only man you've ever truly needed. The Mato purrs happily as he chomps away and you decide to make yourself an omelette and turkey bacon to go with your protein smoothie. It's best to have a nice meal before work and prepare a snack or two to have while there. Of course you have to eat during your shift and usually you would make something, but grocery shopping is still on the to-do list. You'll probably have a customer postmates you some Thai food at some point or maybe do it yourself. Either way, today should be ok and tomorrow is definitely the day you're going to go grocery shopping! Definitely!

You take your food to your room and plop down at your vanity. You shove your makeup a little further to the back of the table top to make room for your plate. You could put your makeup away when you're done with it, but also. No. You bought all sorts of organizers from Dollar Tree to not use them, obviously. You prop up your phone on its side and popsocket as you put on one of your favourite murder shows: Forensic Files. You've probably seen every episode at least a dozen times, but it still slaps. You eat slowly and sip on your protein shake, alternating between that and a water bottle that's been sitting there since Thursday. It's fine, a little stale, but like, whatever it's water. 

After your breakfast, you drop your plate off in the kitchen sink. Dishes are also on the to-do list, but living alone means there's no one to nag you about it. It's not a horrible pile up so far and you think you should bust them out soon. That's what adults do or something. You don't know. It's hard to remember all the things you need to do to be considered a functioning member of society. You'll do them later, you hope. It's more important you make yourself as presentable as possible than doing the dishes anyhow.

The first thing you do is plop in your coloured contacts. A trick you learned after an incident with a regular. Even if your hair had changed, he still recognized your eyes. They are fairly striking so you opt to conceal them these days. Then you pull your hair back into a braid before securing it with a million bobby pins. It'll make putting your wig on after you finish your makeup easier. You grab a couple of palettes and get to it after you've made your eyebrows arguably flawless. A nice smokey eye with a shimmery cut crease and eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man. Topping off your eyelids with some ridiculous lashes. You look fucking hot. You give your lips a little care, a lip scrub and some moisturizer. Then you finish off those bad boys with the perfect, sexy shade of red. Oh yeah, it's all coming together. The wig you wear is an ash blonde and you secure that sucker down with some strong wig glue and a few tucked bobby pins for added security. It is not a drag show, losing a wig on stage is not iconic in a positive way. 

After you get dressed and pack your bag, making sure to grab your hottest bodysuit, you head out to your car. A Mitsubishi Mirage DE in hot pink. The perfect stripper mobile, honestly. It's iconic in the parking lot as either the cutest or dumbest car. The former said by fellow strippers and the latter said by drunk customers without thought. You don't take offense though, most of those men are not secure in their masculinity and you can get money from them by saying , "Hey! That's my car and I love her very much!" The embarrassment that takes place afterward is always satisfactory.

When you arrive at the club, you notice the parking lot has a smattering of cars. Not a lot, but a better amount than last night. Saturdays are primo, the club will be full soon. You make your way inside and say hello to the security guard. He wands you down per usual and checks your duffle bag haphazardly. He doesn't really care about what the dancers are carrying so much as he does customers. They get a full pat down and then some. You head to the dressing room after stopping to say hello to Ginger and Jared. It's gonna be one of those nights where he gets drunk and decides to heckle folks over the mic, you can feel it. He offers you a shot for when you get out of the dressing room and you shoot him a wink.

As you place your bag down on the counter, you note that Bambi is in the dressing room. As are several other girls getting ready to take over for the earlier shift. Still, Bambi, as you have dubbed her, locks eyes with you through the mirror.

"That weird guy who bought a champagne room from you yesterday is here again." She starts. She looks a little put out.

"I tried talking to him, but he said he was only interested in talking to you. I think he's mad at me for being rejected by me yesterday, but I didn't think he had any money." She pouts.

That's normal for baby strippers. They think only the outwardly put together are big rollers. And to their credit, they're not usually wrong. Still, it isn't fair to cold shoulder weird customers. They can be big spenders though generally, not as often. 

"To be fair, I didn't expect things to go the way they did yesterday either. He's definitely weird though." You reply. She crosses her arms and looks at the floor. The other girls in the dressing room seem to pay her no mind as they chatter away and snap selfies in the mirror. One of them, Jade, pulls you in for a surprised selfie and tags your dancer insta in the photo, claiming to be super excited to work with you tonight in the caption. It's not an unflattering photo but you do look a little surprised. 

Jade is loud and charismatic and super fucking gay. A relationship with her would be a whirlwind for sure. Still, she's your favourite to do doubles with because she isn't afraid to get a little risqué and you don't mind making out with her hot self from time to time. It is a little blatant how much she is ignoring the bambi and you can understand why. The girl is probably freshly 18 or 19 and still doesn't know the ropes. She's also not made the best impression on anyone so far. You decide to cut the newbie a bit of a break. You were once new too and were lucky enough to have someone coach you a bit. A few trials and errors were made and you didn't know how to make friends or act at the club for the first 6 months of your career. As you undress and slip on a thong for underneath your bodysuit, you shoot the bambi some advice.

"While it's true no one really wants to deal with the weird customers, they are part of the job. It's important to never discredit anyone immediately who comes to any club you may work in, now or in the future. Especially one who engages you first. And never ever be rude without cause and even then, do it gracefully. That can make all the difference in job security. Moreso, an impression on the regulars or anyone who may become one." You look at her solemnly through the mirror and she meets your eyes once more. 

"This job isn't easy and it's not for everyone. Looks alone are not going to sell dances, you have to be personable too, even if your customers are not." You finish as you step into your bodysuit and zip up your boots. You toss your hair over your shoulders and fix up the roots a bit before spraying on some cologne. Another stripper hack you've picked up over the years. No perfume and no glitter. Never leave your mark on a married man. You give Jade a smooch on the cheek as she films something for her story. She reacts with an overly dramatic gasp and giggle and you throw out one of your own to make sure it's heard in her video. Working together on social media has drawn in quite a few customers over the years. You make your way out onto the floor, giving Bambi a smile as you leave and some encouragement. 

"Make all the money tonight, girlie." And she smiles back at you.

"Thanks. You too." With that, you meet up with Jared at the DJ booth for check in. He has the shot waiting and you knock it back. He never provides you chaser so he can chuckle at your Hard Alcohol Straight Is Gross face. 

"You're up, Princess." He says with a smirk. Normally that would be considered patronizing, but you and Jared have that kind of relationship. Him and Jade are worse though and she gets fired at least twice a month only to show up again and Jared to forgive her. They dated once upon a time, which makes for an interesting dynamic between the two in the club. When she has an empty stage, there's always banter between them.

He starts you off with a shared favourite from Depeche Mode. He's feeling a type of way and the club is only mildly bustling. You can feel eyes on you and not just from the men at the bar interested in new meat. You do a little pirouette with the beat and stop so you're facing the back of the club. Locking eyes with Ryuzaki, you flash him a little smile and he stiffly raises one hand in response. Figuring this guy out is never going to happen. You continue your stage set and interact with the few customers at the rack. They're all mostly tipping just a dollar or two despite you pouring your all into the routine. You note that Paul has left a 10 on your stage and you shimmy your chest at him. He gives you his signature, old man smile. He's a warm fellow, with crows feet around the eyes and a gambling addiction. He's a good egg though.

When you finish your stage set, a customer asks you for a dance and you oblige. Just a $20 dance so you don't bother putting your bodysuit on, opting to just slip your thong over your hips. As you follow him to the dance room, you shoot Ryuzaki a gesture to indicate 'just a moment' and he nods in response. 

You finish your dance with your customer and he doesn't seem to want to leave you alone. But with the way he was trying to get too handsy in the dance, you brush him off in favour of Ryuzaki. The previous customer gets peeved but moves on quickly. The thought of a mind numbing conversation with him makes you roll your eyes. 

"Hey you, glad you kept your word!" You chirp as you take a seat next to him. He wordlessly hands you a drink and seems to be watching the girl who has taken your place on stage. 

"Awh, don't tell me you have your sights on someone else now?" You murmur and he turns his head toward you just a fraction, never removing his eyes on stage. He is, however, letting you know he is engaging you.

"It's just interesting to see the difference in skill level. Can anyone of any calibur be hired?" He asks. You don't get this guy. Sometimes it feels like you're spending time with a five year old and how does one engage with a five year old? You're terrible with children. 

"Well... yeah. It's never been about how well you can dance and moreso about how good you look. When it comes to the hiring process, anyway. Making money is a whole different ballpark." You reply while taking a sip of the drink he purchased you. He's got you breaking your own personal rules. That isn't good, but the vodka cran tastes fine. You're warmed by the fact he remembered your order. Still, usually you don't drink anything pre purchased. He just doesn't feel like he has it in him to drug you and that's how you're gonna justify it. 

"She's not with the beat the way you were." He hums. You note that as well as you watch alongside him.

"Her movements are also fairly clunky." He continues.

"Everyone has to start somewhere. I, personally, don't like making comments on anyone's dancing style. So I won't be engaging with you further on the matter, Ryuzaki." You shoot him a bit of an annoyed look. Talking shit about other girls in the club is not cute. Engaging in the shit talking with the customers is even less cute. Don't bring that kind of energy into the club. If you've got beef, that's fine, but leave it between you two in the dressing room, not on the floor. 

"My apologies." He says as he directs his focus on you entirely. 

"I see I have said something inappropriate." He looks down at your chest. You can't tell if it's him checking you out or avoiding eye contact on the matter. 

"I like the bodysuit today." He looks back up at you with his now signature wide eyed stare. 

"Thank you." You say, deciding to stick to your word and dropping the previous subject entirely. 

"I just want to add, you're quite an amazing dancer to watch. It makes my being here that much more interesting." That comment makes you shoot him a confused look. 

"Why... are you here, then?" You ask incredulously. 

"Ah, I don't think I should tell you that." He mutters as he thumbs his mouth. You're even more confused and it makes you question everything. 

"Uhm... ok. I won't pry, but like.... if you try to kill me, just know I fight back. Hard." 

"I can promise you, that is not my intent." He gives a half smile with that.

You trust him. Point blank. He isn't here to drink and he doesn't really seem to be here to drool over the dancers either. Whatever his game is, you're gonna sniff it out. You're no professional detective but your sleuthing skills of friends shitty boyfriends is unparalleled. That, obviously, makes you somewhat of an investigator. Or maybe they're just sloppy. Still, an intense interest in murder mysteries and how they get solved has been your forté for as long as you can remember. Not that you'd put any serious thought into becoming a detective, but with this guy? You're gonna give it your all. 

"So, last time you were here..." you start, not sure what you want to say. He hums in response, clearly waiting for the rest of your thought. 

"You really pounded down those strawberries." That's really all you're sure you can muster. He's got you too confused and in your own head that all your previous experience as a dancer feels for naught. 

"Well yes. They're delicious. I would like to have some more, actually. Shall we head to the champagne room? I'm still intrigued to hear about your 'theories' on the current murders going around." Oh yeah, you'd almost forgotten about that. With his implications or lack thereof why he's here, it makes you a bit nervous to engage him now. A champagne room is a champagne room though and that money is sweet. Perhaps he just really wants companionship. Not unusual and the basis for most of the folks who decide to come into the club. You almost question if he is asexual then scrap that thought. He didn't get a raging boner, but definitely seems to enjoy your looks. 

The two of you make your way to the hostess booth and then to the champagne room. You pull the curtains closed to block out any on lookers into the room through the window. Even though Jared will still be able to see the two of you on the cameras. You feel a sense of deja vu as you do this. Hopefully he doesn't leave so abruptly and early into his time with you this time. Ryuzaki is looking at you expectantly as he picks up a strawberry in his also signature unusual style. You watch him plop it into his mouth as he stares at you blankly.

"Go ahead." He says with a mouth full of juicy strawberry. 

"Oh uh... like.. right now? Just.. straight into it? Ok. Sure." You blow a small puff of air at a fly away strand of wig hair. Your eyes are focused on a corner of the room. He continues to bore into you and you feel like you're being studied.

"For starters. I feel like he's come into the club. This club, I mean... I wouldn't be surprised if I've interacted with him. Or maybe not and have just seen him around." Ryuzaki is thumbing his mouth as you speak. You can feel your face is contorted in confusion, but it doesn't seem to faze him.

"The two previous victims are from clubs in too close of a proximity to here. I'd argue that we're next. But I'm not gonna rule out that maybe he has a soft spot for here either. That or he's still scoping out his next target." You conclude for a moment. 

"That's pretty basic." He sighs. He has a slight pout to his face and seems to be disappointed.

"I'm not done!" You shout in embarrassment. He looks at you incredulously. 

"His victims.... they all look like dolls. They're all... specific. The kind of women who could stop traffic." You give him another annoyed look as he continues to appear bored.

"While I'd argue," you emphasize argue while shooting him a small glare.

"That a lot of women in the club scene do, the victims are a different kind of doll-like look. I mean, genuinely. Like a porcelain doll. And then he leaves a collar on them? It feels like a sense of ownership... I also noticed..." you stop yourself a moment. It was just a weird thought, but you're also talking about murder in a champagne room. With like... the weirdest guy you've ever encountered. Whatever. You continue.

"It's just that... it looks like they were soaked in bleach." He seems to perk up a bit at that last statement. It's almost as if you're right. You're gonna roll with that.

"I would argue, he spends time with them intimately afterward. Like.. he's done playing with them and getting ready to put them away. That leads me to believe he's acting alone..." you trail off as you recall the crimescene photos that were released to the public. Ryuzaki is giving you his full attention now.

"He's ... alone. And he wants the world to know those women are his. He also probably feels guilty about what he's done, that's why he does what he does to them. Almost like.." you ponder a moment as you find the words.

"Like he's cleansing them of something. Or maybe it's subconscious and really, he wants to cleanse himself. " you turn your attention to him fully. He's got a mouth full of strawberry and a look on his face that could almost be excitement. 

"Now that's an interesting theory."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao, sorry if Im a bit long winded with this. I am still working out where I want this to go, but stick with me if u like! Ive also worked on the formatting a bit. I realize that when I copy and paste from my notes it got a bit wonky. I probably wont fix the previous chapters, but hopefully it's better moving forward. Thanks!


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